


Crimson Clouds

by Starlight_Angelbane



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by a fan theory, M/M, Nero is a sweetheart but stubborn and sometimes stupid, Not Canon Compliant, V is Mundus, but also Vergil kinda, surprise Trish you have a brother now, the familiars share a single braincell, think SU where Mundus is Rose and V is Steven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-09 17:23:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlight_Angelbane/pseuds/Starlight_Angelbane
Summary: "Suffering defeat after defeat, the demon's body was reaching its limit. Breaking down. But he couldn't die yet. The demon had a job that must be done."Desperate to exact his revenge upon Dante and lay claim to the world that Sparda betrayed him to protect, Mundus resolved that the only way to enter the human word is through a vessel of human blood. And so, he bound himself to what was left of the soul of Nelo Angelo, granting his mind freedom, but manipulating him still to seek the power to defeat the legendary devil hunter. Alas, even the best laid plans are subject to disaster, as instead of gaining control over Vergil's unfiltered demonic power, Mundus is cast out and fused with Vergil's humanity; creating a being that is neither the Demon Emperor nor the Son of Sparda yet shares both their wills: "V."Driven by Mundus' memories and desire for vengeance, V aims to defeat Urizen and take his power, which would restore Mundus within the human world as was planned. But to complete such a quest, he will have to enlist the help of the man he hates more than anything. Yet something else stirs within V; something that only grows the more time he spends with his other reluctant ally: the young devil hunter, Nero.





	1. The Eye Altering, Alters All

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends! This is my first DMC fic, but I've been in the fandom for a long time, so I hope to do y'all proud. I fell head first into the Nero/V ship and let it consume me, so I knew I wanted to write something for them, and I was also very intrigued by the fan theories from before DMC5 came out about V being connected to Mundus, or being Mundus himself. Combine those two things together, and boom, the inspiration for this hot me like a truck. x_x I've got amazing plans for this, so I hope they pan out as I want, and I hope you guys enjoy it too!
> 
> For reference, my interpretation of Mundas' "human" appearance is based on this fanart:  
http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/38600000/Mundus-devil-may-cry-38667357-564-643.jpg

The first thing he felt as he gasped for air, gasped for life, was the bitter cold of the air that immediately enveloped his bare skin that wasn’t pressed against the chill of the floor underneath him. It felt smooth under his fingertips. Then, amidst the pounding of blood rushing to his skull, came confusion.

_ “Something’s wrong,”  _ was his first thought, as all of his senses tried to work at the same time, making it all seem a hundred times more overwhelming, and for a moment all he wanted was for his heart to stop beating so he could have silence. But there already was silenced, he quickly discovered, for it was shattered by the sound of unnatural noises, like someone was choking while having a seizure. Even as his muscles felt like they were on fire and his bones felt like molten rock, he managed to lift his head and shoulders barely off the ground, and he opened his eyes.

The first thing that caught his attention was the body he realized was his, and his blood ran cold. Pale, tender flesh laid before him, quickly becoming organic art as intricate lines swiftly appeared all over it, the markings of a demonic contract; or several of them, in this case. It couldn’t be - this couldn’t be  _ his  _ body, this was a  _ human _ body, and a slim one at that. He was supposed to have an impressive demon’s body, he should feel power beyond reckoning coursing through him, not a freezing chill that did nothing to cool these sudden, uncontrolled emot-

Wait.  _ Emotions.  _ He was  _ feeling _ . And if  _ he  _ was feeling, then that meant… Slowly, his gaze rose to the source of the disturbing noises: a figure wrapped in a cloak, back to him. Suddenly a purple-pink aura began to omit from him, and the air buzzed with waves of demonic power. And then he experienced another emotion, foriegn and familiar at the same time: Fear.

_ “No...no...no...no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO!”  _ he silently screamed as the figure convulsed and warped, growing in size and power as rapidly as it lost its human form. He was struggling to breath, and as the creature let out a deafening roar, it was all he could do to force the twigs he had for arms and legs to move, pushing as much strength as he could into them to push him away. Away to where, he didn’t care, as long as it got him away from the demon.

The demon he was supposed to be.

He kept moving backwards until his back hit a wall, and he shivered from the contact against his baby-soft skin. Looking up, a more painful shudder ran through him when the demon turned its head just a bit in his direction. Would it kill him if it saw him? Instinctively, he pulled his legs close to him, knees against his chest, whatever he could do to make himself look smaller, invisible.

If the demon knew he was there, it apparently didn’t care, for with another roar that had hints of laughter to it, the demon ascended with a powerful leap, smashing through the roof of the manor, and then it was gone. And he was alone, the sounds of the pouring rain and his racing heart keeping silence at bay. For several moments, he just sat there, staring at the broken roof and breathing in and out. In and out. Then his cheeks were stained with water, but not from the rain.

_ How? _ How did this happen? Well, he knew exactly how it happened, but  _ why?  _ Why had he been discarded? Was it Vergil’s doing? Had Vergil somehow regained enough of his own consciousness to sense the demon hitchhiking on his soul, and knowingly forced to demon out with the rest of the undesired qualities so that he would have full control over the power? Was that why he was here, and not there?

Who even  _ was  _ he? He certainly wasn’t Vergil, though in the deepest depths of his mind, he could sense the lull of past memories; the sound of children’s laughter, the warmth of a woman’s embrace, the satisfying scream of a corrupted scholar as he fired a bullet into him alongside a man possessing a face that made his insides scream with rage and sorrow. No, he wasn’t Vergil, the thoughts that had been running through his head since his first breath, and the agony he felt at the realization of how his plan had fallen to disaster definitely belonged to Mundus. Yet… he wasn’t Mundus. Mundus was evil incarnate, and to be honest, he didn’t feel particularly evil in this moment.

Shivering, he wrapped his arms around his torso, lips twitching downwards as he noted how he could almost touch his fingertips behind his back, that’s how slender he was. Wonderful. He nearly choked out a laugh through the tears at how nightmarish the situation was, and he wasn’t sure how long he sat there for before a voice in his head that wasn’t his own snapped him out of his hysteria.

_ “So, kid, you just gonna sit there and cry all night?” _ He blinked slowly, surveyed the area before him. There was no one there? Had he already gone crazy within minutes of existing? That train of thought was swiftly derailed as he watched with wide eyes as the markings along his arms and upper chest began to shift, moving towards his hands until the ink shot off from his wrists into the air. From one source emerged a giant bird that quite obviously didn’t hail from the Human World, moonlight reflecting off its feathers which were colored a brilliant blue. From the other, came a black panther whose very presence radiated with majesty and ferocity, something he would appreciate if it wasn’t also striking fear into his heart. Both animals came to a stop before him, and they looked at him with expectant but unsure gazes. As if they just as doubtful to what to make of him as he them. But there was one comfort in this otherwise intense confrontation - he knew them, even if at least one of them wore a completely different color scheme from the one Mundus had originally created him in.

“Griffon,” he addressed the great bird, his own voice surprised him with how low and smooth it was. It reminded him of velvet, or perhaps dark chocolate; things Vergil’s memories provided him the knowledge of. His eyes fell upon the panther as he addressed it too, “Shadow.” The demons looked strangely pleased at his recognition of them, and Griffon let out a low chuckle that other humans might describe as “obnoxious.”

“Hey, look at that, he already knows us! Good, at least that means his head isn’t completely empty.” The bird squinted at him, as if potentially sizing him up. “Now the real question is, who are  _ you? _ ”

“I…” Words died on his tongue before he could force them out. After a couple more tries, he finally admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m sure you’ll figure that out. Though if you stick around here, you might catch hypothermia and die before you can. Get up, stretch those legs a little while I go find ya some clothes.” By the time he opened his mouth to reply, Griffon had already taken off, a few feathers delicately floating down from the hole in the ceiling, leaving him alone with Shadow.

For another moment, he and the panther just stared at each other, and he almost felt entranced by the big cat’s red eyes that, for now, shone with a gentle glow. Then the panther began to come closer to him until their faces were inches apart. Suddenly, there was a lingering sensation of warm and wet against the middle of his face, and it took a prolonged second for it to register that Shadow had licked him. On the mouth and nose. He made a small spitting noise as he wiped his face, squinting at the demon with faux annoyance. The panther just looked at him, amusement in its eyes. When it didn’t move away, he realized that it was offering to help him stand. Lifting a shaky hand, he pushed down on the demon while using his other hand and legs to slowly rise to his feet. He and the panther grunted at the same time, and shared a triumphant grin over what shouldn’t have counted as a victory, but they didn’t care.

His body trembled as he attempted to walk, but Shadow stayed behind his legs, bracing him in case his knees were to buckle. He limped his way over to a mirror that surprisingly wasn’t shattered. Now, he could finally see himself. There was something pleasant in the shade of green his eyes had taken. It was a deep green, the green of emeralds, or of a lush jungle. They stood out brilliantly against the snow white of his skin, and the dark halo of black that was his hair, that framed his face rather nicely he thought. His face… Despite this being a body born from Vergil’s humanity, he didn’t resemble the elder son of Sparda in the slightest. If anything, he could see traces of a young Mundus in his cheekbones, the point of his chin, the thinness of his lips.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of flapping wings, and he turned around just as Griffon dropped a bundle of clothing into a nearby chair, then perched on its arm before dropping a few more items from its mouth onto the pile. “Ok, so I may have made a mistake in just going for the first guy I saw, but how was I supposed to know he wasn’t wearing something sensible until I was too close to turn back? And hey! Personally, I think you’ll look absolutely spiffy in this. It’s got a goth theme to it, which will have a nice aesthetic with the natural emo look and tattoos you’ve got going on. 

He paid little mind to the bird’s fashion opinions, instead focusing on the first half of what it had said as he moved to inspect what would be his outfit. “You attacked someone and stole their clothes?” he inquired, not so much concerned but rather amused.

“Eh, it was just some teenage punk pretending he was hot shit. He’ll probably chalk it up to getting groovy with some drugs and losing his clothes along the way. It’ll be fine. Though, uh, I didn;t bring underwear. We might be desperate, but I can already tell you’re the kinda guy who has enough standards not to wear another guy’s used boxers.”

He chuckled in confirmation as he slipped on the leather pants, grunting with discomfort as the tight fabric chafed against his… yes. Tying the laces of what he discovered was a corset jacket proved tricky at first, as did putting on the cord necklace Griffon had brought. But when it was all said and done, and he looked again into the mirror, he had to admit Griffon was right - he  _ did _ look good. Or at least, he did until his knees buckled and he felt himself falling to the ground. He was barely aware of the surge of power that ran through him as panic welled in his chest, nor how that power explode when his fingers snapped amidst his flailing. 

The sound of his body’s impact against the floor was much louder and destructive than it had any right to be. That’s what he thought, anyway, until he regained his focus and became aware that there was a goddamn  _ golem _ forming a few feet away from him. He let out a shout and began to scramble away, pausing when he noticed that the squawking coming from Griffon wasn’t panicked crying, but  _ laughing. _

“You idiot! Whaddaya running from?!  _ You  _ summoned him, ya limp noodle!” He stared incredulously at the bird for a second before looking back to the golem that, to his surprise, was patiently standing there, as if waiting for something. Something to fight. 

“Nightmare,” he mumbled to himself, eyes half-lidded as he processed the fact that in this weak state, he had control over three demons, including a golem. He almost missed the way Nightmare melted into the ground and merged with his skin once more, clearly not desiring to waste time and energy just standing around. He did feel just a smidge guilty over how the golem’s entrance had further destroyed the roof. Not.

His gaze fell in the direction of the front door, and naturally, he started walking towards it. “Whoa there! Hey, hey, hey!” He let out an annoyed sigh as Griffon got in his face, the force of wind from the demon’s flapping causing his hair to blow back. “Uh, where do you think you’re going? Not that I want to stay here, buuuut-”

“I must go after the demon,” he replied simply. “He has power that doesn’t belong to him. I’m going to take it back.”

“...Riiiight, and how do you plan on doing that? Cuz the three of us are pretty badass, not to toot my own horn, but I don’t think we can take down  _ that  _ by ourselves. Well, maybe the big guy could, but judging by your skinny ass, you won’t be able to keep him out for long, so that plans a bust. No offense.”

He frowned, and not just because of how casually the bird had insulted him. But because the bird was right. Even if he felt slightly relieved that he wasn’t completely helpless thanks to these demons,  _ that _ demon wielded the combined might of Mundus  _ and  _ Vergil. On top of that, thanks to Mundus, the demon would no doubt have the power to create and control demonic abominations of its own design. The frail creature that he was now didn’t stand a chance. If he was going to get his power back, and get the plan back on track, he was going to need help… And there was only one other being he knew of that could do the job.

He gritted his teeth together harshly, anger already flaring up like a lit fuse at the prospect. But he swallowed it, stating in a low voice as he continued to walk. “Then I guess we need to recruit some pawns of our own.” His foot hit something, and he glanced down to see the backside of a book. Curious, he bent down to pick it up, opening it at the middle and shaking the water off it. His eyes were immediately drawn to the illustrations and beautiful calligraphy sprawling across the pages. “Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow,” he read, a part of him liking the way the words sounded in his voice. Something struck him in his mind. The words were familiar to him, somehow. They were special, cherished, and he couldn’t understand why. He closed the book and flipped it around to see the front cover that bore a detailed but rather large sigil.  _ Oh. _

“Hey, you alright there, kid? What are you muttering over here?” Griffon’s wings grazed the right side of his head, and he felt Shadow’s head nudging against his left side. “Kid?” He said something, and for a brief moment, the bird gave complete pause. “Come again?”

  
“I  _ said… _ ” he repeated decisively, tucking the book into his jacket before finally taking his leave of the ruined manor, its destruction brought about by him on two seperate occasions now. For the first time that night, a wide smile began to cross his lips as he walked with a stride that was ironically confident for someone in his condition. “My name is ‘V.’"


	2. Into The Dangerous World I Leapt

_ “Sooo, how are we feeling?” _ Griffon’s voice cut through the silence that momentarily settled over V’s mind, eliciting an annoyed click of the tongue from the man, though he continued to stare down at the pages he wasn’t actually reading. His focus was on the conversation happening on the other side of the door he stood in front of. He was to wait for a cue before entering; Dante’s “handler” of sorts insisted that it would be better that way in the event that the devil hunter refused the job for whatever ridiculous reason.

It had been easy enough to obtain the money needed to entice Dante to taking on the task he had planned for the latter, as well as to buy the train ticket needed to get to where the son of Sparda resided. The assault he and Griffon launched against unsuspecting passersby was inflicted with minimum pain; it didn’t take much to knock out the human, and they couldn’t afford to blatantly murder him. Still, some part of him felt satisfied at the sight of the few stacks of bills that had gotten stained with blood. In turn, however, the part of him that was Vergil’s previously repressed empathy was repulsed, and the contradicting emotions gave V a migraine. It was all he could do to be relieved of it by reassuring himself that stealing the money was their only option, he didn’t have the time, energy, nor likely the strength to do honest labor for cash.

The hard part had been finding Devil May Cry - what a ridiculous name for a business. Sending Griffon to do just a bit more scouting work, he’d been pleased to learn that the man they needed to see was in a bar not to far from where they were. J.D. Morrison, as the man was called, had seemed wary in V’s presence, most likely because of the bloodstained cash the latter handed to him while demanding to be taken to Dante, but V also liked to imagine that it was also due to his threatening aura. With as frail and attractive as this mortal body was, any hint that he still possessed the ability to intimidate was a reassurance the man desperately needed. Of course, he knew quite definitely that intimidation wasn’t going to work on Dante. It never did. No, he was going to have to lay on the charisma, wasn’t he? As he’d told Griffon earlier, he had no intention of revealing his origins to the devil hunter, primarily and obviously because if Dante learned which demon made up half of him, he would have a bullet in his skull, and this time, he wouldn’t be coming back. He supposed he was grateful Dante hadn’t had the privilege of combating Mundus during the demon emperor’s youth; it ensured that the former wouldn’t notice the vague resemblance V bore to the demon’s humanoid form, nor would he recognize in him his brother.

_ “Hellooo? Griffon to V? I asked you a question?” _Griffon squawked in his head again, and V let out an exasperated sigh.

_ “How am I feeling? Well, I’m beginning to feel agitated, which I’d very much like _ ** _not _ ** _ to be if I’m to interact with… Dante… here shortly.” _ It still made him grit his teeth, the notion of having to rely on the man he dearly desired to kill because of his own error. Then again, there were… _ other _options, other demon hunters besides Dante. Perhaps he could just shove his cane that Shadow had considerately broken into a shop window and stolen for him through Dante’s chest and be done with it, and then recruit someone else to take down he who by now could probably be accurately called the new Demon King. No, no… Dante was the best equipped for such a battle, killing him now would only make matters worse.

He was pulled from his speculations by the sudden hum of generators coming to life, and the dark windows of the building now shone with light. Dante must have agreed to take the job, of course he did. V let out another sigh, this one more pleased. He didn’t move to enter yet, Morrison had stated that the cue would be a verbal one. _ “In any case,” _ he continued to Griffon, _ “I’ll likely need you play along with whatever ruse I come up with concerning our knowledge of what’s to come.” _

Griffon was only able to make a noise of understanding before V heard in a slightly louder voice, “Meet your new client.” Ah, there was the cue. Without taking his eyes off the open book in his hands - he wasn’t quite ready to actually look at Dante, he tucked his cane under his elbow and sauntered through the door, immediately side-stepping to the left and leaning against the wall. He could feel the devil hunter’s gaze fixated on him, felt eyes roaming over every inch of his body in an examination with multiple motivations. Pervert. He maintained his cool, composed, almost bored expression, though it nearly cracked when he Morrison mentioned that he was going to bring Lady and Trish in on the job to assist Dante.

_ Trish. _Now there was a name that hadn’t crossed his mind in years. Mundus had elected never to attempt to make another humanoid demon after the failure that was the devil he’d made in the image of Sparda’s deceased wife. He couldn’t risk losing another servant to the trivial human emotions that corrupted them, like “compassion” and “pity.” He wondered if Trish would recognize him for who he truly was, but decided against the idea; he was human now, after all. Even if she found him suspicious, she would have no clues to deduce his identity. His body tensed as the door slammed shut following Morrison’s departure, and now he was left alone with Dante.

“So… what’s your name?” he heard the white-haired halfling ask casually. Letting his cane slip out of his arm and catching the handle in his hand, he stepped forward idly, still refusing to look at his new… employee.

“‘I have no name, I am but two days old,’” he quoted, silently relishing in the way his familiars’ presence vibrated with amusement at the joke only the four of them understood. He was finding himself more and more taken with William Blake’s poems, and not just for the ironic truths of his own situation they held, but that was a contemplation for another time. He flicked the book shut with a brief chuckle, a smirk ghosting on his lips as he raised his gaze to look now at the desk cluttered with garbage and random knick-knacks, Dante’s torso in his periphery. “Just kidding. You can call me ‘V.’”

“Alright, _ V _… Why don’t you tell me everything about this job.” At that, the raven-haired man shared an internal laugh with Griffon. To accept a job and its payment without first learning what the job entailed… Truly, Dante was either criminally cocky, or unbelievably stupid.

“A powerful demon is about to resurrect, and we need your help, Dante.” The answer was simple, too simple, and he already knew that it wasn’t what Dante wanted to hear. Well, V didn’t care in the slightest what Dante wanted, and he would be a fool not to seize the opportunity to toy with his prey in a way that was refreshing and challenging compared to the other methods memory provided. The sound of Dante’s laughter as he rose from his desk and began to walk over to the nearby sofa made his skin crawl, however, and his body tensed again.

“Now that’s a familiar tune. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that exact same line?” V bit back the urge to answer, _ “...Twice?” _ as the only two powerful demons he was aware of that had previously attempted to resurrect in the human world were Mundus and… Argosax, that fiery, flying fu- _ Ahem. _ In any case, actually answering the question would open a door that needed to stay shut, and besides, Dante had likely also had to deal with barrages of cowardly humans screaming about powerful demons that in reality were very minor at best.

“This is… special,” was the reply he decided on, though it came out a little more forced than it should’ve.

“Special? O-kay, so what’s so special about this one?” Ah, there it was. The beginning of the real test; how well V would be able to make a convincing argument out of just half-truths. Well, if he was grateful towards the Vergil part of him for anything, it was for the eloquent way with words he’d been gifted. He threw the cane lightly into the air and caught it as he turned and began to approach Dante.

“This demon is your ‘reason…’” Finally, he willed himself to meet the devil hunter’s gaze, and had to fight to suppress the instant wave of disgust that rippled through his body when he looked into those familiar crystal blue eyes. “Your reason for fighting.” Something changed in Dante’s expression; it was a very subtle change, but it was there. And as he leaned forward with intrigue, V had a feeling the other was already forming possibilities for the answer to the question he would ask next.

“This demon got a name?” V smiled cryptically, and let the answer roll off his tongue, drawing it out for the drama of it, because this was his production, and he was openly a sucker for the dramatic. Dante’s sucked in a breath, and the hands that rested on his knees clenched at the fabric of his jeans. V imagined with amusement that the devil hunter hadn’t actually expected _ that _ answer. “That’s not possible,” he growled, voice as rigid as his body. 

“Oh, but it is,” V drawled, turning to stroll around the room. “You of all people should know that anything is possible when it comes to the Underworld and the creatures in it.” He paused by the desk, letting his fingers ghost across the top of a picture frame that sat upon it, and for a brief second, his chest tightened. “Of course, rumors could only be rumors. I suppose you’d just have to determine for yourself whether this demon is your flesh and blood or not. Either way, he’s coming, and he seeks to destroy this world.”

“And how exactly do you know this?” Dante demanded dryly. “Where did you hear these ‘rumors?’”

“Let’s just say,” V hummed, glancing back with a coy smile. “I have friends in low places.” Recognizing the cue, Griffon materialized above V’s head. The man held out arm for the bird to perch on, which he accepted eagerly.

“You wouldn’t believe all the juicy gossip that passes through the Underworld grapevine,” he retorted to a startled Dante. “But it’s looking like this one is a lot more real than just wasted air. You should be grateful we decided to give you a heads up instead of making you wait til the last minute to find out. Or at least, be grateful we’re actually willing to pay you for something you should want to take care of via your own volition.”

Once he regained his composure, Dante’s face twisted into a scowl, and he rose to his feet. Griffon let out a squawk and took to the air as the white-haired male walked quickly and with hard footsteps towards V, who whipped around and held his cane out in front of him. The handle came to rest against Dante’s chest, preventing him from getting any closer. Blue eyes bore into his green ones, searching for answers to questions he couldn’t find the words to speak aloud. He was trying to solve the enigma that V was with hardly anything to go on, and it frustrated him, much to V’s delight, even if he was primarily vexed with the hunter on the edge of his personal bubble. At the same time, there was something tantalizing about it, and he was almost tempted to see how far he could provoke Dante until he snapped. Alas, it wasn’t in his best interest; he didn’t doubt that the more physically impressive man could snap _ him _in two, and that wasn’t an experience he was eager to have.

“These ‘friends,’ how did you come to have them?” Dante inquired in a low voice. V gave him an ice cold smile in return.

“I’m afraid that’s not information you need to know. The only things you should be concerning yourself with are the details of the job I’ve just hired you for. So be a good little employee, and leave your client's business alone.” They continue to stare at each other, the energy surrounding them as intense as a raging hurricane. V wondered if Dante would recognize his energy. He decided that, like Trish, it was unlikely; being combined with Vergi to an extent had made something unique of the aura he gave off, whether it was for the better or worse was yet to be determined. After what felt like a small eternity locked in this spiritual embrace, V finally dropped out graciously.

“I suggest you savor the time you have left before the demon makes himself known,” he said cooly, dropping the cane and moving past Dante. “Perhaps you’d even consider training to get stronger; after all, this will be the fight of your life.” He sat down on the couch, the side opposite of where the hunter had sat, and pulled out his book once more.

“Please, this will be a cakewalk,” Dante snickered, arrogance briefly defining his features before he squinted at the man on his couch. “Uh, what exact;y are you doing?” 

“Resting,” he replied flatly, flipping through pages until he found where he’d left off. “I haven’t had a proper rest in a decent shelter for a few days. I hope you can find it in your heart to grant your benefactor just a bit of hospitality.” His words earned a snort from the other, but no attempt to throw him out was made.

“Whatever the customer wants,” he teased, plopping back into his desk chair and propping his feet up on the furniture that was certainly not meant for feet. “If you’re hungry, all I’ve got is cold pizza, but there should be water and beer in the back if you want too.” V looked up at him with a blank expression. He’d honestly been jesting with the comment about hospitality, but Dante was actually serious. A bizarre sensation momentarily gripped him.

“...Thank you,” he heard himself reply. Seemingly satisfied with the response, Dante went back to perusing the magazine with a cover similar to the posters above his head, appearing to be uninterested in further conversing with his guest. V continued to stare at him curiously for another minute, before returning to his book. “_ My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt,” _ he read in silence. It was a dangerous world he’d been born into, wasn’t it? Thoughts drifting to the hunter whose movements were acutely noted at all times, he resigned to accept that to achieve his goals, he would have to make his world even _ more _ dangerous.


	3. He Whose Face Gives No Light...

V hadn’t intended to spend the night at the Devil May Cry. In fact, he wasn’t even sure  _ when  _ he’d fallen asleep. One moment he’d been lost in a particularly intriguing poem, barely noticing how heavy his eyelids were becoming; next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to a room dimly lit with the first rays of dawn, fully laying on the couch in the fetal position. As he slowly regained consciousness and moved a hand to lazily rub at his eyes, he became aware that a blanket had been put over him. Had Griffon got it for him in the night? He didn’t recall dismissing his familiar before passing out, so perhaps the bird had gotten it for him. Then again, if he’d fallen asleep sitting up, he doubted Griffon could’ve delicately laid him down or put a pillow under his head without waking him, which would suggest that another person had done it… which would mean that it had been…

He peeked over in the direction of the desk. Even through his eyes that were still blurry from sleep, V could see Dante wasn’t there, not that he had expected him to still be there. The latter must have retired to his bedroom, wherever that was, and V felt a tad grateful that he likely hadn’t been under the devil hunter’s scrutinizing gaze all night. Slowly sitting up, he was blessed with only another 30 seconds of peace before a loud rumbling noise cut through the silence. Despite no one else being present to hear it, V felt his ears burn as he clutched his stomach.

“I  _ told  _ you to eat something before we got here,” Griffon complained, materializing beside him on the arm of the couch. The bird didn’t exactly have a wide variety of facial expressions at his disposal, but it didn’t take a demonic bird whisperer to recognize the displeased look on his face. “What did I say?” he chided, like a parent scolding his child. “I said, ‘V, that hot dog I stole for you isn’t going to hold you over all day. You’re gonna wake up starving tomorrow unless you get something else in your system.’ Didn’t I say that? But  _ nooo, _ Shakespeare knows what’s best for himself, even though he’s only existed for about 56 hours now.”

“I wasn’t going to have you steal more food for me,” V retorted, running a hand through his hair, combing out any tangles. “And sorry, but I wasn’t in the mood to let you and Shadow hunt a bunch of  _ mice _ for my dinner like you so eagerly suggested. If we hadn’t seen that food cart, I doubt you would’ve had any inkling as to what humans are supposed to eat.”

“Hey, I don’t want to hear that from the guy who’s so big-brained, he named himself ‘ _ V _ ’ after the letter on a freaking  _ poetry book _ .” V rolled his eyes and reached over to grab his cane which was propped against the other side of the couch arm. As he retracted his arm, Griffon pecked lightly at his hand. “Oi, where ya going?”

“I doubt I’ll be able to make it far to find food, not that I have the money to buy it anyway. Dante said I was free to help myself to the pizza and water in the back. I’ll have to settle for that.”

“Cold pizza for breakfast? Look at you, you’re already fitting in just fine with the modern young humans,” the bird cackled, ignoring the withered look V shot him for such a comment. Stifling a groan, V slowly rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen as silently as possible. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights when he entered, he could see well enough in the dark, and he wasn’t feeling particularly petty enough to try and ensure that Dante’s next electric bill was higher than the one V had basically just paid for him. He squinted from the blinding light of the fridge, and as he observed how quite literally the only things within were water bottles, beer, a box of pizza, and… strawberries? - he felt a wave of emotion that was some sort of weird combination of disgust, pity, and a desire to smack Dante over the head with his cane and demand that he incorporate something healthier into his diet. If he was going to consume the human food he doubted the half-demon actually needed to survive, he could at least consume something that would benefit his body. 

V knew that would probably earn him a response along the lines of such a statement being rich coming from him, but at least he couldn’t be called a hypocrite - being frail and malnourished wasn’t his choice. One could possibly say it was the result of the lifestyle Vergil chose; neglecting the human part of him for so many years was most likely what caused that humanity to be so physically weak once it was its own manifestation, unaided at all by whatever parts of Mundus had been transferred over as well after being stripped of his strength. It was a very annoying train of thought that V was swiftly growing tired of boarding, and he understood that nothing about his situation would change if he just sat around being bitter about it. He decided that once he’d eaten, he’d find a quiet area with lots of space and few passerby to test out the extent of the power he  _ did  _ still have.

He must’ve been even hungrier than he thought, because there was nothing else to explain what possessed to grab the box of pizza, acknowledge the fact that there was a perfectly functioning microwave a couple feet away from him, and ultimately opt  _ not  _ to heat up the pizza and instead do as what Griffon claimed was “trendy with the youths,” and bit into the cold substance. There was a moment of pleasant surprise as he found it not terrible. It wasn’t great by any means either, but it wasn’t terrible. There were thin slices of meat on top of the cheese and marinara sauce that he identified as pepperoni after a minute of searching through the chaotic and unorganized storage unit that was the selective collection of memories he’d received from Vergil, and while it had a bit of a spicy kick to it, V didn’t mind it, and he continued to nibble on the slice. Which would soon become two slices, then three, and he honestly could’ve moved on from the fourth to a fifth slice if he didn’t feel his familiars judging him in the back of his mind; plus the box was empty now anyways.

Dante still wasn’t awake by the time V headed out, which suited the young man just fine. It seemed that it was still early enough in general that there weren’t many people or cars out and about either, not that this suburb was normally bustling during the day. However, busy or not, one survey of the cluttered and narrow streets that made up his immediate surroundings made him groan from the thought of how long it was going to take searching for an ideal training spot on foot. Or so he anticipated. Something soft and wet pressed into the palm of his free hand, and he looked down to see that Shadow had materialized by his side, and was currently staring up at him as if trying to say something. He cocked his head at the panther curiously, and the latter took it as a sign of encouragement. He watched as the demon cat morphed into a thin mass of darkness and shifted so it was under his feet. “Shadow, what are you-?” he began to ask, moving his foot to step forward off of the mass when it suddenly lurched forward as well, and V felt and heard all the air whoosh out of his body as his back hit the pavement.

Wheezing, he forced himself into a sitting position, and was immediately bombarded with apologetic licks. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he grunted. “I’m fine. Just… I wish there could have been a way for you to actually tell me what you were doing. It’s an excellent idea, I just need to be prepared next time.” He threw his arms over Shadow’s back and used it to push himself back up to his feet. “Ok, let’s try that again, and preferably not break my spine.” 

_ “Or  _ any  _ bones for that matter?”  _ Griffon jeered in his mind. V shushed him as Shadow became a pool of mist around his feet once more. This time, V closed his eyes and reached inwards to his connection to the panther, letting their minds fall into sync. He let himself lean forward a bit, and when he opened his eyes, he nearly startled and lost his balance as he realized he was moving at an impressive speed. A smile naturally spread across his face, and he chuckled despite himself as he willed Shadow to turn the right corner at the end of the street. He almost felt as if he were flying, a sensation both the entities that he was composed of dearly missed.

At the speed they traveled, it didn’t take long for them to find what appeared to be a massive pit containing a junkyard of sorts at the edge of the suburb. Though it was clearly less spacious than he would’ve liked, he supposed there was a benefit; the mounds of garbage would serve nicely as practice targets to test his familiars’ strength, and he would have to feel no guilt in destroying what no one wanted anyway. 

The irony of his own thoughts made him halt, and for a moment, a dark feeling settled over him.  _ No guilt in destroying what no one wanted…  _ Had Vergil felt guilt when he carved his humanity out of him? Would he have done it even if Mundus hadn’t also desired it? Somehow, he knew the answer was yes; Vergil’s obsessive need for power would most likely have led him to such a path eventually. V tightened his grip on the handle of his cane, and his lips quirked into a faint, sadistic smirk as he imagined the look on “Urizen’s” face when he, the weakness that the other had tried and failed to destroy, would take back the power that was rightfully his. “ _ Go,”  _ he demanded, extending his arm and watching the tattoos soar off and form into Griffon, who wasted no time in firing a blast of demonic energy akin to electricity at the nearest mountain of trash. It exploded and crumbled instantly, and V’s smirk grew at the same time Griffon cackled maniacally and inquired what he should blow up next. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To put it lightly, the junkyard had gone from a garbage mountain range to a flat plains by the time Griffon and Shadow were done with it. V was pleased, though he knew ultimately it meant little in the grand scheme of things; he wouldn’t know just how effective his familiars would be against demons that were far more durable than human trinkets and would actually fight back. But that was a test for later, the fact that they’d passed the first test was enough at the moment. Now, he needed to deal with the more pressing issue: the fire that had ignited when Griffon had accidentally struck a pool of oil, and had grown as the surrounding flammable items fed it. 

With little options available, V decided to just go for broke and snapped his fingers, ignoring the string of curses Griffon fired at him as Nightmare fell from the sky in a blazing meteor, the impact sending V flying back. When he crashed against soft fur instead of the cold ground or rough trash, he let out a sigh of relief, shooting a grateful look behind him at the great cat that had braced his fall. Looking back towards Nightmare, he gave an apologetic smile to the golem who, despite having no face or voice, radiated confusion as to why he’d been summoned for no apparent task  _ again. _ On the bright side, it’d landed on and effectively put out the fire…

V heard Shadow growl behind him, and his body tensed as he became aware that they were being watched. He turned and looked up, feeling a mix of surprise and increased tension as he locked eyes with Dante, who was peering down at him from the top of the pit walls. He was staring at V, or rather, V’s hair that was now a familiar snowy white, before his gaze moved to Shadow, Griffon, and Nightmare one by one, his expression unreadable. V was momentarily distracted by Nightmare’s presence in his mind, silently asking if he wanted it to attack Dante. He shook his head and hoped the golem could feel his apology as he dismissed it. The devil hunter’s eyes snapped back to him and narrowed a tad as the blackness returned to V’s hair like an oil spill with Nightmare’s return to its host. 

“What brings you all the way out here?” V called out. “Come to be among your element?” Dante’s eyes widened at the unexpected and shady remark, and after a moment that trademark smirk crossed his face.

“Nah, just thought I’d see what was with all the noise coming from over here. Explosions aren’t exactly a common sound ‘round this place, so I thought it might’ve been some rogue demons starting some random shit. I guess I was only half wrong.” V snickered and called Shadow back to him.

“Forgive me, my friends needed exercise. ‘All work and no play makes a dull boy,’ as they say,” There was no way he was admitting what he was really doing out there; to appear as if he’d been controlling powerful demons with a thirst for battle was all part of the mysterious image he needed to display. The less clues Dante had to any aspect of V’s identity, the better. He had Griffon lift hi by the arm up out of the pit, landing gracefully a few feet away from the devil hunter. He was about to take his leave, but the latter spoke before he could have the chance. 

“I’m almost glad it was you wrecking shit - I was looking for you anyway.” V turned his head to regard Dante, brows furrowed in confusion, unsure whether to be nervous or just surprised. Did this have something to do with the job? Were Trish and Lady already here and he needed V to fill them in on the details for some reason?

“And what, pray tell, were you seeking me out for?” he asked coolly. “Missed my delightful company?”

“Yeah, you’re a sweet treat alright,” Dante snorted. “Two reasons, actually. One, to diss you for eating all my pizza -”

“You said I was welcome to it!” V interrupted in protest. The white-haired male waved his hand dismissively. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to  _ actually  _ take me up on that. No offense, but you have the attitude of a guy who thinks he’s too good for pizza.” V elected not to more or less prove that observation correct by admitting he only ate pizza because there was nothing else, even though in the end he’d found it tasty. “The other thing is, I want you to take a little trip with me.” V blinked.

“A...trip?” he repeated slowly. “...Where? And…  _ why? _ ”

“Just down to an island not too far from here called Fortuna. Lovely place, great architecture, though they had to rebuild a bunch of it from a little incident I got involved in a few years back. Why? Because there’s something I want you to confirm, and since you’re clearly not the giving-answers-freely type, maybe seeing the result of that something will make you more inclined to share with the class.”

Now it was V’s turn to narrow his eyes. Fortuna? The name was familiar, but it held no personal significance that he could sense. Dante was obviously implying that he wanted answers concerning something about Urizen, or V himself, but he wasn’t sure what could possibly be in this Fortuna that would move him to revealing potentially classified information. Still, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to accompany the devil hunter; it wasn’t as if he had many other options regarding how to spend the day.

“Alright,” he agreed after his contemplation. “Let us make haste then.” Something flickered across Dante’s expression, but he said nothing, just smirked again and let out a playful  _ “hmph” _ before beckoning the other to follow him and walking away, a motorcycle parked nearby.


End file.
